Maximum Ride: Winged Cross
by Jarl of the North
Summary: The flock has just escaped the School a second time. When they get to New York, however, they find that their troubles haven't ended yet. The Erasers are still hunting them, still finding them. And who is this new gang - Winged Cross - and why are they trying to be so friendly with them? And why is their leader so focused on helping the flock? Will cross with Prototype later
1. Prologue: A Night to Remember

I do not own Maximum Ride. If I did, Ari would not have died. Nor do I own Bleach Hellsing or Devil May cry.

* * *

I can honestly say that I absolutely despise crowds. Especially when those crowds are in a concert. It's loud, it's flashy, and it is jam-packed with people. On top of it all, people tend to lose it when they get into herds like this; they follow the decisions of everyone else, not a single individual thought in any of their heads.

I sighed, unable to believe I'd been talked into coming here. I was currently with King, one of my friends, as well as a member of the rag-tag gang of kids that I lead, which, considering that I'm the youngest of them at the age of fourteen, is pretty funny. I'd agreed to award them with the recent takedown of the Hell's Angels branch that had extended to New York, King having made the choice as his award for bringing down the leader of the branch. The entire group was here, but we'd all split up to make sure nothing particularly bad happened, and I stuck with King.

But why, oh _why_ did he choose a concert?

"You okay?" King asked, snapping me out of my trance.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'm just… I'm going to go off on my own for a while. I really don't like being stuck in crowds."

"Yeah, sorry about that. It's just that you know how much we love this band, and it was playing so, we chose to come," King shrugged, "anyways, I'm fine with you going on your own. Just don't get lost, and stay out of trouble, alright? We don't need another 'Skillet Battle Royale' right now."

I playfully made a failing attempt to smack the taller boy upside the head, and then walked off, moving away from the crowds and into the shadows near the spotlights at the edges of the outdoor concert. I sighed again in boredom. Why am I bored, you ask? Well, plain and simple, even when the Hell's Angels moved into town (only to kicked out within a week by yours truly and my gang), things were getting – no, they had been boring as hell for the past six months. All the trash – street gangs, drug dealers and so on – had been cleared off the streets, even in the Bronx. And by who? Not those lazy ass, doughnut dunking hogs known as the police, I'll tell you _that_ much. But if you guessed that it was the same people who cleared out the Hell's Angels, you'd be exactly right.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm glad that the streets are safe now, save a few stragglers who either missed out on the message or didn't get the message bashed into their thick skulls hard enough. But now, all that's left are weaklings. Not even worth the warm up, for any of us. And that has had mixed effects on the morale of the Winged Cross. Made up of me, King, the red-headed "Soulless Sadist" Sickle, Coal, Skye, Huntress, and a few other members who are either on their own little journeys or are currently dealing with personal issues, the Winged Cross is something we all put together about four years ago under our previous leader to pick up the slack in New York that the police wouldn't bother with. We showed up the police with ease as we brought down gang after gang, beat down criminal after criminal, even won against a few serial killers. But, as with all good things, it couldn't last. Our previous leader left in order to get a good education (he promised to come back some day to help out again, a promise I intend to hold him to), and things gradually slowed down. The idiots on the streets who didn't have the hell beaten out of them ran, and Winged Cross, rather than the police, became the ones people looked up to. The poor and homeless look to us for help, and we give it to them. The public became mixed between those who believed that Winged Cross should be rewarded, and those who believed that we should be punished and that we should have left things to the police.

Yeah. Fat chance.

I gripped my silver rosary, holding onto the crucifix attached to it, the wings that had been so crudely fixed to its back digging into my skin. I drifted aimlessly along the trees at the edge of the concert, mindlessly approaching the nearby spotlight that lit up the stage. Leaning back against one of the trees, I closed my eyes and lost myself in the beat of the song. For a good twenty minutes, I just stood there, leaning against the tree, letting each song embrace my barely conscious mind.

Until I heard something like the sound of a landing bird's wings beating the air. Exactly like it, but absolutely huge, about six of the sounds going in unison.

I jolted to my senses, and hid behind the tree, my heart suddenly pounding, pumping a sudden burst of adrenaline through my veins at an uncontrollable rate. As quickly as they had initially come, the sounds had faded.

Risking a peek from around the tree, I gaped, then shut my eyes, shaking my head hard to make sure I wasn't dreaming before opening them again. Where there was nothing before, now stood six kids, all of them freakishly tall for their apparent ages, the tallest a few inches over six feet, but appearing in all other aspects to be no older than fourteen. Three girls, three boys, the youngest of them (about six years old, from the look of her) just barely under four feet in height. How they'd gotten there, I wasn't quite sure, because there was no way that what I'd just seen was real... was it? There was no way that I was drunk or tripping out; if you're even seen with that stuff when you aren't destroying it or handing it in to _trustworthy_ authorities (which, in New York, is approximately zero at the moment), you were immediately kicked out of Winged Cross, hunted down, and had the crap beaten out of you before being thrown on the front steps of the nearest police station with the evidence. Was I hallucinating? Sheer exhaustion or boredom, maybe? No, boredom doesn't cause that no matter how badly it's affected you, and I wasn't even close to exhaustion.

The six looked around them, as if paranoid that something bad, a lot worse than some fourteen year old kid like me was watching them, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Satisfied that they weren't being watched, they began to make their way down to the crowd. I was about to follow when I felt a hand clap down on my shoulder, "hey, Blitz."

I turned to see Sickle, in all her red-headed, curvy glory, purposely wearing provocative clothes, _daring_ boys to try to hit on her, to give her an excuse to kick them to the curb, to give her an opportunity to laugh at their pathetic screams as they tried to escape her wrath, "what do you think you're doing all the way out here? The party's down there, you know."

"Give me a break, Sickle," I pushed her hand off my shoulder, smirking, "you know how much I hate crowds."

She shrugged, purposely exaggerating the action in an attempt to draw my attention to her well-endowed chest, her ragged shirt purposely cut low enough to see her excessive cleavage, "suit yourself. While King doesn't like unnecessary fights, I'd say that another "Skillet Battle Royale" is exactly what we need right now."

"Listening in again?" I asked, barely keeping my eyes from being drawn from her face. Which, considering how much taller she was compared to me, was pretty hard to do.

"You know it."

"Anyways, I think I'm going to head home. I _really_ need some sleep," I stretched my arms, shuddering at what I'd just saw from the six kids.

"Perhaps you'd like me with you?" she grinned, her smirk a solution of sadism and seduction mixed together, "just to keep you... company?

"Thanks, but no thanks," I shuddered.

"Relax, relax. I was joking. Besides, no one can change your mind once you set it. I of all people should know that by now," she shrugged with excessive effort again, her smirk fading as she cracked the bones in her neck, a look of pleasure crossing her face as her head rolled across her shoulders, "ah, that feels good... anyways, call me if you change your mind."

I simply turned away, raising my hand to show that I heard her. My smile faded as I began to make my way back to our hideout. I wasn't even that tired, but I wasn't taking any chances, no matter how strained my sanity was. What I saw with those six kids worried me. I had met some pretty shady characters in the past, including that jerk in the red duster with the awesome red hat that he in no way deserved (note for later: go to Britain and find out exactly what they're up to up there), and that guy who runs the Devil May Cry shop down in L.A. (note for later: find out what he means by "special business"). So just what worried me, you ask?

I could have sworn that when I first saw them, those kids had wings.


	2. Worries and Hunts

I do not own Maximum Ride. If I did, Ari would not have died. Nor do I own Bleach, for I have a character with a certain nickname in here. I will be skipping out on the scene at the zoo (sorry for any inconvenience - is that how you spell it? I know I could look it up, but I'm kind of too lazy at the moment.), and just so you know, the crossover will be very, very slow to come. But when it does, things will get very dark very quickly, which is why I'm going to be switching to an M rating soon. Also, I'm sorry if some of this chapter seems a little jerky - I didn't plan this part out very well.

* * *

BLITZ

I rolled over in my makeshift hammock that I had perched up between two massive storage boxes about twenty feet off the ground. Every time I would come close to sleep, those kids I saw would always resurface in my mind, getting me all worked up again and not allowing me any rest.

I rolled over again to stare upwards at what remained the stars through glass skylights that ran along the cieling of the Winged Cross hideout. What we used as our base of operations was originally nothing more than an abandoned warehouse near the docks, filled with nothing but junk and dust and potential dangers - which was why it was closed down to begin with. But to us, it was everything we needed. Shelter. Forgotten loose change. Warmth. Equipment. Weapons. For a while, we kept it a secret where we lived, but a few gang fights, arrests, and calling cards changed that fairly quickly. The people who wanted revenge constantly showed up here, as well as people who wanted this place for their own. Guess who won those fights?

Barely finding any stars in the sky, I swore, "damn light pollution. If all the other stuff doesn't kill us first, we'll go blind and kill each other trying to drive as a result of the light pollution."

"Tell me about it."

I sat up, turning about to see Skye sitting on one of the storage boxes staring up at the sky he was named for, a look of tired disgust on his face, "look at us. Just look at us humans, polluting the planet, killing and torturing each other for money and pleasure. We're like a dog trapped in its kennel, drowning in its own shit," he layed down on the ground, his hands beneath his head, "there are times that I wonder why we even bother."

"You must be really depressed, Starrk," he snorted as I mentioned his nickname, "it isn't like you to be so apathetic and negative."

"Whoever said I was being apathetic?" he sat up again, running a hand through his wavy, shoulder-length brown hair. His stained black "Skillet" shirt that he got from the infamous "Skillet Battle Royale" we accidentally started last year getting into a fight with a new gang who'd shown up at the concert that night (that was a brutal fight. What I can't believe is that Skillet had actually decided to help us out. There were broken instruments and skulls alike that night...). His ragged blue jeans weren't just ragged - they were nearly falling to pieces, strips of fabric hanging from one another as he crossed his legs. His white and blue running shoes were in surprisingly good condition, especially considering that he was our parkour expert - while we could all get around quite well with our skill level, it was him who could run up the wall of a four story building with little more than a running start, and his incredible amount of stamina only made things better for him when it came to things like free-running and jumping. His eyes were a cold mix of icy blue and storm gray, and the faded goatee on his chin combined with his rugged facial features made him appear to be in his late twenties rather than just turning twenty within a few days. On his left hand, he had the gothic tattoo of the number one (something we forced him to get), and a silver chain hung from his neck with a small, silver wolf's head swinging lightly from its place around his neck. Besides his clothes, his entire appearance and attitude pretty was pretty much a dead ringer for the character Coyote Starrk - the reason why he had the nickname to begin with. Under normal circumstances, he was fairly lazy. Not quite as lazy as the original Starrk, but still pretty lazy all the same. That's the main reason I'm the leader and not him - Skye had no interest in being the leader, and there were very few things could actually get that lazy ass motivated. But if Starrk _were_ to somehow get motivated... then he was easily among the strongest members Winged Cross had to offer.

He rubbed hard at his chin before returning his gaze to me, "I might be acting negative at the moment, but I'm not being apathetic. If I were apathetic, I wouldn't be a part of Winged Cross to begin with," he clenched his fist, "what we're doing here is good, Blitz. It's a good thing that we're here, helping people and keeping the scum off the streets. But it isn't good enough. Not good enough to make a difference in the big picture. All we are is a ripple in a gigantic ocean."

"Even ripples can create tidal waves, Starrk," I leaned forwards on my arms, still sitting down, "didn't you say that yourself, once?"

He was silent for a moment. I'd never seen Skye like this. I'd never seen him so stressed out, so passionate about the situation, so... angry.

"Look," the Starrk incarnate finally broke the silence, "I'm not disputing that we aren't making a difference here. What I'm saying is that it isn't big enough. If something doesn't happen to make humanity change soon..." he slowly unclenched his fist, "then it'll be too late. Hell, it might already be too late."

Another silence. Finally, I flipped out of my hammock to the ground below, going into a crouch as I hit the ground, "one can always hope," I muttered.

Starrk called out as I stood, "where are you going?"

I started towards the exit, "for a walk. I need to think for a while."

"Didn't you say something about you needing sleep?"

"I could say the same to you," I pushed open the door, "besides, I don't think I'm getting much sleep tonight. There is just way too much on my mind right now."

I stepped forwards, letting the door swing shut with a resounding CLANG that echoed throughout the entire warehouse. Not really caring that I possibly just woke everyone up, I walked out into the streets. Like I had said to Skye, there was no way I was getting _any _sleep tonight.

* * *

I gave a light yawn as the mid-morning rays of light beat down on me as I walked through the streets towards Central Park, three other members of Winged Cross behind me; Starrk, Sickle, and Coal, a quiet, gentle giant of a sixteen year old black boy with a near entirely clean-shaven head, a warm smile, a generous personality, and a strong puching arm. As I had initially thought, the sandman had been majorly waylaid by my turbulent thoughts, and said turbulent thoughts were still crossing my mind non-stop.

"Gyahhh... why?" I muttered under my breath.

"Why what, Blitz?" Sickle asked, "something's been eating you ever since you left the concert last night. Don't think we haven't noticed."

"I... ugh, never mind," I threw my hands up in the air.

"Don't give us that, Blitz," Coal placed his hand gently down on my shoulder as we walked, "I don't know what your problem is, but you can tell us. You can trust us."

I opened my mouth to retort when something caught my eye. I made myself focus, and there they were; those kids from last night again, sticking out like a sore thumb against the people wandering the park. Each of them were tall and lanky, the lankiness in their appearance only serving to make them appear taller than what they really were. Their ragged, torn clothes were stained with mud, dirt and blood - not admittedly too different from my own, but I felt my eyes narrow as I continued to look them over, like a predator considering its prey. While I couldn't put my finger on it, there was definitely something off about those kids.

"Blitz?" Starrk's voice finally snapped me out of my trance.

"You see them?" I pointed at the six that were making their way blindly through the park with no specific aim.

"Yeah?" Sickle's voice rang in my ears.

"Good. Shadow them."

Not even giving an explanation, I took off into the nearby crowd, never allowing the group to escape my vision. On through the park they continued, until three of them broke off towards a food stand - honey roasted peanuts, I think - while the others went to go get balloons from a clown not too far off. While it was easy to keep track of both from this distance, something seemed off about this whole thing. The clown and some guy in a suit seemed to be waiting for something, until the kids began to move again, this time at a brisk pace, constantly glancing over their shoulders. Upon keeping a good distance, I could tell that I wasn't the only one following them. And it wasn't just the others; tall, and I mean _freakishly __tall _guys were following them, guys who look like they just walked out of a fashion/female equivalent of a Playboy magazine, but wearing suits rather than stupid designer's clothes. They were quickly joined by several women that were fairly similar to them, tall and powerfully built, and the kids picked up the pace again, going into a good-paced jog before breaking into a run. Almost immediately, the eight of the suited morons followed suit, running after the group way faster than any normal person could run. I swore and snapped my fingers, and shot out of the crowd after them, quickly joined by Coal, Sickle and Starrk.

The chase was nearly impossible to keep track of; all I know is that pretty soon that four of the suited idiots soon gave up, but the others kept going. I have no idea how we managed to keep up, but I guess the swarming crowd combined with our own personal training helped.

"Do we still have 'em?" Sickle asked.

"Yep. They just went into a back alley. Come on!" I motioned with my hand before rounding the corner.

What I saw was the four remaining suits slowly approaching the six kids that they had finally cornered, light chuckles echoing from the mouths of each. Taking a look in between them, I finally got my first good look at the kids. The youngest, a girl of about six from the look of her, had short, bleach blond hair that, even spattered with dirt and grime, caught the sunlight and emphasised on her wide blue eyes - eyes that were wide with fear, betraying that she about ready to start screaming. The second youngest was approximately eight, a boy with the same blue eyes, though his hair wasn't as bright as the younger one - obviously siblings. The third was dark skinned, but nowhere near the same shade as Coal, with nearly pure black hair hanging about her head and dark brown eyes. The other three were all about the age of fourteen, same as me, the first a boy with pale skin and pure black clothes and hair that was tied back into a ponytail and eyes the colour of coal (the stuff you burn, not my teammate, idiots!), the second another boy with strawberry blond hair that obscured his eyes, and the final one a girl with long brown hair with blond streaks all throughout, and eyes like melting milk chocolate. As I had said earlier, they were all incredibly tall for their age, the six year old being just under four feet in height, and the strawberry blond kid being taller than six feet.

Not even giving it a second thought, I called out "I wonder, just what is it about six kids that would interest freaks like you?"

The suits turned, playful, yet sadistic smirks that reminded me _way _too much of Sickle playing along their faces.

"Aw, look. A bunch of idiots trying to be heroes," the lead one chuckled, "you might want to back off before things get nasty, kiddo. You're interfering with somthing that you can't even come close to comprehendi-"

"This is not a TV show, moron. We're not interested in the big, bad monologue of evil," Starrk cut the guy off, sarcasm and annoyance dripping from his words like acid, "all we see is a bunch of idiots picking on kids for zero reason."

The six kids now were looking at us rather than the suited idiots before them, looks of question and distrust on their faces. The distrust directed at us, the questions at our sanity.

I didn't really care at the moment.

"Look, this doesn't concern you. Just back off before our boss gives us permission to maul y-"

I bolted, leaped, and cut the guy off with a strong knee to the face. I grinned as I felt his nose break under the force of my attack, and fall to the ground, gripping at his face as I leaped back, a smirk plastered on my face as I rejoined the others, "I hope you realize that you aren't dealing with your normal batch of people, bub. Now why don't you take your own advice and back off before we get serious."

Instead of listening to me, the suits glared at me as their leader got to his feet, a look of utter hate gleaming in his suddenly wolfish eyes as he wiped the blood from his face, "you are going to pay for that one, kid."

I blinked, "did he just get up from that?"

"Yep," Sickle grinned evilly as she cracked her knuckles.

Starrk groaned "agh. And I was hoping that I could take it easy today. What a pain."

Coal said nothing, merely rubbing his knuckles with a look of slight remorse on his face as my grin returned, "oh man. Get ready, guys. I have a feeling that we're about to have the most fun that we've had in months."

* * *

AND that's that. I hope you enjoyed it more than I did. One of my lesser works, in my opinion. Please review, I'm still new to this.


	3. A Sour Meeting

I do not own Maximum Ride. If I did, Ari would not have died. Nor do I own Bleach, for I have a character with a certain nickname in here. Nor do I own Prototype, but that will come in much later.

* * *

MAX

Okay, I have met my fair share of weirdos (most of them the lab-coat clad pawns of Satan), and seen some equally weird events (in the form of experiments) in my life. But this definitely took the cake for the weirdest thing I'd ever seen, besides that failed dinosaur-human hybrid experiment (I personally don't count that for taboo reasons). A trio of kids and some tired guy who looked to be about his late twenties decide to randomly face off against ERASERS just because they saw us getting chased? Needless to say, my 'suspicious alarm' was driving me nuts. Something was off about this whole thing.

I felt Fang tap my hand, trying to get my attention. I heard him whisper "up and away once the fight starts?"

"No," I whispered back, "too risky. Just sit tight. Maybe they'll tire the erasers out. Then we'll finish it."

As soon as I finished speaking, as if on cue, blood splattered across the ground before us, an eraser bleeding profusely from the mouth as he fell face-first onto the concrete, road-rash tearing up the side of his face. In response, he lashed out with his foot, catching the kid in the gut and making him fall backwards, only to get up again, using the momentum to get on his feet. A grin spread across his face his face as he let out a whoop of joy before charging, leaping, and kicking the eraser in the face again as the human-wolf hybrid stood.

Glancing at the others, I saw that the dark-skinned kid was actually matching his eraser blow for blow, fist for fist, bleeding from a broken nose but otherwise seeming completely oblivious to the eraser's attacks, his opponent in similar shape, both gritting their teeth in concentration and pain. The redhead was totally oblivious to any injuries she sustained in fighting her eraser, a sadistic grin on her face with blood dripping from her mouth as she proceeded to smash a metal pipe into the eraser's head multiple times before the eraser finally caught her arm. There was a sickening snap as the eraser broke her arm like a matchstick, but she merely glanced at where her arm had been twisted, and switched arms, driving the pipe into the eraser's head one more time and catching it off-guard, effectively knocking it unconscious. The guy who Gazzy thought looked like a guy named "Starrk" was currently backed against the wall, his eraser grinning like a madman as it charged - face-first into a brick wall. Glancing up, I saw "Starrk" up on the fire escape, a bored expression on his face as the eraser below proceeded to swear at him non-stop. He merely stared as the wolf hybrid approached the ladder, before, all in one swift movement, sliding down the ladder and swinging his feet into the bottom of the eraser's chin - all of it way too fast for him to be normal, which would explain why I didn't see him move before; until then I'd been watching for what was normal. The eraser was unconscious on contact with the ground, and "Starrk" gave a sigh as he prodded him with his foot.

In total, the fight lasted about two minutes, the victors being the kids and "Starrk," all of whom were definitely not normal. Even if the erasers were holding back, no average bunch of normal humans could beat them that easily.

"That. Was. Fun!" the lead kid shouted, stretching out his arms as if he were trying to grab hold of the sky, "the most fun I've had in months! Nothing like a good street fight to chase away boredom."

"For you," the "Starrk" guy rolled his shoulders slightly, "for the most part, I don't count street fights on my list of things that I consider to be fun."

"Please, Starrk. The only thing on your list of things that are fun to do is sleep," the red-head grinned evilly, heedless of her broken arm, which was bent at an almost obscene angle.

"My name is Skye, damn it!"

"Then why do you have that tattoo on your hand, Starrk?" the dark skinned one joked, a smile on his face as the guy who called himself "Skye" twisted his face slightly with rage.

"You jerks made me get that!" he snarled, holding up his left hand, which had a gothic tattoo of the number one on the back, right in the middle of it, "for my birthday, no less! All I wanted was a good day with no fighting, maybe a nice nap, but _no,_ _you_ idiots had to make me go get a tattoo!"

"Aw, come on, man. It looks awesome on you!" the lead kid grinned as he folded his hands behind his head, "on top of it, we saved and scraped to get the money for that thing!"

"Well..." Skye shrugged, "I guess it is pretty badass, all the same. But that's beside the point!"

"Anyways," the lead kid looked straight at me, his icy blue eyes seeming to pierce into my soul, in spite of the friendliness carried in them, "sorry for ignoring you for that little bit. Just had to straighten some things out," he took a step forwards, extending his hand, "I'm Blitz. These are my friends, Sickle," he gestured to the redhead, who gave me a sadistic grin mixed with some frustration as she struggled to get her arm back into place. The kid named Blitz moved on, pointing at the dark-haired kid, who, I now noticed, had only faint stubble for hair, "that's Coal, as in the stuff you burn," he gave a light, almost shy wave as Blitz said his name. He finished, "and you already know our lazy-ass parkour master, Starrk."

Starrk brought his hand up in mock denial, his tone, on the other hand, dead serious, "please do not call me that. I already get it enough from everyone else I know. And for your information," he turned to Blitz, who had his back to Skye, completely ignoring him, "I am not lazy! I procrastinate!"

I stared at the hand that was offered to me. The kid before me, Blitz, was about five foot six, average height, with light blond hair pulled up into spikes on the top, front, and sides. The hair on the back of his head, however, was long, pulled into a pony tail at the base of where his skull touched his spinal cord and going down his back about halfway down. He wore ski-goggles on his forehead for no apparent reason, and he had a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek beneath his eye. He had lightly tanned, yet pale skin, and his white shirt was turned a ruddy gray by a multitude of stains. He wore extremely worn swede black shoes, and torn black jeans that had massive holes in the knees. He looked about fourteen, maybe a couple of months younger.

I smacked his hand away, "sorry, kid. We aren't in the mood for making friends."

The smile on his face slipped, and I could feel the tension in the air tighten. My flock shifted uncomfortably as Blitz spoke, "that was admittedly unexpected. What's your deal? We're just trying to be friendly. We even helped you-"

He was cut off by a sickening SNAP, and a shout from the redheaded Sickle, "ah... _there_ we go!"

We all turned to look, and Sickle's arm was for the most part back in place, a smirk on her face as she wiggled her fingers, her arm still somewhat bent on an angle. Blitz deadpanned, "that changes nothing, Sickle. We're still taking you to see Alex."

Her eyes narrowed, "oh, fuck you, Blitz."

"There are kids here, Sickle. Watch your mouth," Blitz's voice was low, dead serious, his eyes flashing with anger for an instant. Sickle gave a slight mutter under her breath before she fell silent completely. That did nothing to help my trust with the kid.

"How did she just snap her arm back into place like that?" Gazzy asked, and I shot him a warning glance, to which he smiled sheepishly in response.

Sickle shrugged, "I'm almost totally nerve dead. It's weird, because I can still feel it when I'm in physical contact with something, but when I'm hurt, like a burn or a knife in the hand, all I feel is mild discomfort. Like my pain sensors have all been shut off. I've never understood why people scream in pain when they're hurt. It can't be that bad, could it?"

"You have no idea," I heard Fang whisper, and Iggy gave a slight nod in agreement.

"Either way," Blitz gave a shrug, "you six are obviously new here."

"And how can you tell?" I asked, feeling my own eyes narrow. The four people before us glanced at each other, then began to chuckle and snicker, which quickly turned into full-blown laughter. I felt my already short fuse begin to light, "all right, just what is it that you four find so funny?"

"Sorry, sorry," Blitz managed, grabbing at his stomach, "it's just that it seems perfectly obvious how we can tell. We know nearly every person who lives on the street in New York. Six unrecognizable kids just randomly show up, battered and bruised with ragged clothing?" he broke into laughter again, shortening my fuse even further, only speaking when he had to come up for air, "of course we're going to notice!"

I felt my hands clench into fists as the four finally began to compose themselves, barely keeping myself from breaking Blitz's nose. He spoke again, "if you guys need a place to stay, we'd be willing to-"

"No thanks," I hissed, cutting him off.

Gazzy let out a shout of dismay, "Max, you can't just brush them off like that!"

"They're willing to help us, Max," I felt Iggy's hand on my shoulder, "shouldn't we give them a chance?"

"I agree," Nudge's voice echoed in my ears, "please, Max? They're offering us a place to stay! Just one night?"

_Not over my dead body, _I mentally shot back. Friendly as he was, it was that same friendliness that I already hated about Blitz.

"Max..." I glanced down to see Angel, who had clearly just read my thoughts.

_Make him back down, _I told her, and she gave a reluctant nod, closing her eyes and beginning to focus, sending her will to Blitz, trying to make him back off.

He blinked, "what the...?"

"Blitz?" Coal asked.

"What the hell..." Blitz trailed off, before grabbing onto the sides of his head and thrashing about furiously as he stumbled about in an unsteady gait, giving slight snarls as he went, the other three backing away, shouting questions. I felt a grin pull at the edges of my mouth; while I normally wasn't a sadist, there was something I was enjoying in watching the kid squirm.

Angel's face was twisted in concentration, almost seeming to be in pain as she gripped my jeans, sending a thought my way, _I can't make him do it! He's fighting me!_

_I knew there was something off about him,_ I gave a triumphant smirk, _try harder!_

_But I've gone through his intentions... he's sincere... _Ange's next words made my eyes widen slightly, staggering.

_Is there anything else? In his memories? _I shot back.

_He didn't start fighting until I began trying to look through his memories and force him to back off. He knows I'm in there, and he wants me out,_ Angel reported,_ I can't go through his memories. I can barely even stay in there!_

I turned my gaze back to the thrashing Blitz, who was now frothing slightly from the mouth in his attempt to maintain control. He finally yanked off his goggles, and proceeded to smash his head into the brick wall, blood pouring from a new wound on his temple. At this, Angel let out a small yelp as she grabbed her own head, stumbling back slightly and falling to the ground.

"Angel!" I shouted, kneeling down and holding her head as she rubbed at her head.

"Max..." she murmured, "my head... it hurts."

"And it serves you right."

My gaze shot to a very angry Blitz, leaning against the wall and breathing with harsh, shallow gasps. His eyes were intense with rage, piercing me like a spear and sending shivers through me. The lens in his goggles cracked in his hand from his grip as he began his approach towards me, his glare set on Angel, "I don't know what the HELL you did," he hissed, "and I don't particularly care. All I know is that you were in my head, going through my thoughts and telling me what to do. Then you had the gall to go through memories I want forgotten, reopening old wounds. And that," he spat, the anger and tension in the air making me choke with fear, "is something I am NOT going to forget!" he turned his glare to me, "and don't even think about playing stupid with me! You know exactly what I'm talking about!" he grabbed the collar of my windbreaker and pulled me closer, my face inches from his as he whispered, "you are going to keep this brat out of my head, or I will bludgeon hers in! Understand me?"

I swallowed. Normally, I would have punched him out with every ounce of force in my body for threatening Ange, as would the rest of the flock. But there was something that just kept me there, sweating with fear and trace amounts of anger as his rage washed over me. His eyes narrowed, "I take your silence as an agreement. If you meet us again, we are going to have words, mainly your explanation of what the hell you were doing. I retract my offer of letting you stay the night. That goes for every single one of you," he pointed at my flock, then turned his back as he let out another snarl, "let's go. We need to get Sickle to Dr. Mercer."

"Blitz-"

"I am _not_ in the mood for your arguing, Sickle!" he whirled on her, "just shut up and keep up. Your arm needs proper treatment."

Both Coal and Sickle fell in line after him, leaving Starrk behind. He sighed, "I'm sorry. I honestly have no idea what was going on once he started going nuts, but I am really sorry about that. He normally isn't like that. I've only seen him like that once or twice, and that was when he learned that there was a gang rape we failed to stop one night. Whatever was going through his head must have really pissed him off."

I swallowed slightly, "I- um... is there anything in his past that might have been particularly traumatic?"

He scratched his chin, "there may very well be something. No one really knows much about him, other than the fact that he stumbled into New York half-dead about four years ago. He never told us anything about what happened beforehand, not even me or our previous leader, Yarai, and we were the closest people to him."

"Leader?" I asked.

"Oh, right, never explained that to you," he nodded quickly, "Blitz is the current leader of Winged Cross. Basically, we're a gang meant to do what the police don't; clear the trash from the streets, the trash being street gangs, drug dealers, stuff like that."

"I personally think you'd make a better leader," Fang spoke as I helped Angel back to her feet, though she was still shaking.

"Blitz has the same opinion, but I disagree. I'm not really one to lead. But why would you want to know about his past so badly?" he asked, eying* me suspiciously.

I cringed. I should have thought before asking.

"Uncomfortable subject, huh? Alright, I'll leave it alone," he put his hands up, then into his pockets as he began walking away. Then he stopped abruptly, "oh yeah. Almost forgot," he turned, tossing something at me, "catch."

Fang caught it out of the air before I did, opening his hand to reveal a silver crucifix, with small, folded wings on either side. Starrk spoke again "that means a member of Winged Cross is considering you for recruitment. You don't get this," he held up a crucifix from around his neck, his bearing unfolded wings, "until you actually join."

_How fitting,_ I mentally drawled.

"Why are you giving it to us?" Iggy asked.

Starrk shrugged as he turned away from us again, though I could still see the corner of his eye as he looked at us, "Blitz doesn't want you at our place for the moment. The way he is right now, it isn't the best idea to be questioning him. And you'll need a place to stay. That cross is for if you run into trouble. If anyone gives you any flak, just show them the crucifix. They'll back off quickly enough. They know not to mess with us."

With that, he walked out of the alley and disappeared into the crowd. Gone.

"Nice work, Max."

My gaze shot to Gazzy, who was glowering at me. He continued, "everything was going smoothly. We were getting friends, we were even going to have a place to stay until you and Angel screwed it up!"

"What?" I gaped, "he looked like he wanted to kill Angel!"

"And we're still angry for that," Iggy turned to me, his blind eyes filled with frustrated anger, "but it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't made Angel go through his head! It's your own fault!"

"Oh, so I'm the bad guy now?" I snapped.

"Yes, you are the bad guy, Max," Gazzy snapped back, Iggy ready to back him up.

"I agree with Max," Fang spoke up, "there's no way we could have trusted them."

"Even if we couldn't have trusted them enough to stay with them, they still saved us!" Iggy snarled, "they could have been our friends! And you," he pointed at me with perfect aim, "just had to ruin it! Thanks a lot for nothing, Max! We really appreciate it!"

I opened my mouth to retort when Nudge's shrill scream pierced the air, "STOP IT! STOP IT, ALL OF YOU!"

We all turned to a sobbing Nudge, tears pouring from her eyes over her cheeks. She sniffed, then continued quietly, "we can't change what just happened. We can't. But we can't just sit here and argue about it. It'll just make everything worse," she wiped her face, "we can't just sit here. We have to keep moving. Maybe there's still a chance we can fix things with Blitz. But until then, we have to find a place to stay," she walked slowly past us, swaying slightly, "come on. Let's go."

I glanced at the rest of the flock, Angel having fallen unconscious. I cleared my throat, "Nudge is right. We can't just sit here. We'll settle things between us and with Winged Cross later. For now, let's just find a place to stay.

With that, we cleared out of the alleyway, with me wondering if what I had done was really the right thing.

* * *

So yeah, that's the third chapter. Sorry this took so long. I can only bring myself to write early in the morning or really late at night, which constricts my writing time. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it.

* I am not joking, that is the proper spelling for that word. It doesn't seem right at all, does it?

** I have no idea where that argument between the flock or where Max's attitude came from. I mean, I had it planned out that there would be tension between the flock and Winged Cross, but damn, I didn't intend it to go that far!


	4. Truths Unvieled, Yet Still Concealed

I do not own Maximum Ride. If I did, Ari would not have died. Nor do I own Bleach, for I have a character with a certain nickname in here. Nor do I own Prototype, but that will come in much later.

* * *

BLITZ

There are some things that you just can't explain in life. Things that make you bleed, others that push you forwards. Sometimes, there's that one little thing that makes everything around you seem to totally unravel on itself.

What I'd just experienced was the final option.

I honestly had no idea what happened with that girl - I didn't even attempt to guess - but I knew she was the voice in my head. She tried to make me back down, tried to sift my memories for info, tearing open scars that had taken years to scab over - just scab over, to fade, but not heal. Those wounds were things that would never heal - in the process. While now I was calm enough to evaluate the situation with a cool head, I knew that if one more thing had happened in that alleyway...

I knew what I would have done. All I can do right now is be glad I didn't. I don't need the blood of two people on my hands.

I stared up at the quickly approaching storm as I finally rounded the corner of another alleyway with Sickle, Starrk, and Coal in tow, the towering building that was practically the home of the doctor we'd come to see towering over us. I took a short glance about before motioning them in, opening a side door to the first floor's only lab. As they filed in, I took one last hasty glance about before ducking inside, grateful to be out of the rain and into the dim, flickering light as a shrill, inhuman scream pierced the air. My gaze shot over to see a man with spiked brown hair and a white lab coat wrestling an absurdly large animal back into its cage. The man being almost six feet in height, the thing he was struggling with was nearly up to his shoulder in height, and was vaguely humanoid, with thick, muscular arms as big around as pipes and stubby legs thrashing about, its hairless skin flayed open and heavily lined with bloody red veins and welts. The scientist grated his teeth, his hair matted with sweat against his forehead as he struggled to get the hairless gorilla in a full nelson hold, his dark brown eyes heavily contrasting with his almost deathly pale skin. Sickle was gripping onto her once again bent arm, while Coal and Skye were trying to find a way around it without being bludgeoned.

I called out to him, "you need a hand there, doc?"

"It'd be gladly accepted," he snapped, sparing a glance at me to acknowledge I was there, "just don't let it bite you! The last guy this thing bit had to take a bullet to the skull!"

I nodded, and rushed up to the ape-like beast, dodging under its massive arms and delivering a kick to the underside of its jaw. The impact drove the frothing mouth shut, its razor sharp teeth closing down on its tongue and sending blood dripping to the floor. It let out another howl of pain as it reached for me, and the scientist drove some kind of needle into the back of its neck. Even as its thrashes grew slow and fatigued, it continued to struggle against the doctor, who gave a loud curse, "I can't give it any more. It'll die if I give it one more dose, and I need it alive!"

"Don't worry about that," I smirked, and in perfect unison, Coal and Starrk drove their fists into the freak's abdomen, making it double over in pain and lifting the scientist on its back clean off the ground. As the two stepped away from the thing, it let out a hoarse growl in an attempt to regain its breath. The doctor slid off of its back, and gave me a nod, breathing heavily as I drove my foot into the thing's forehead. It stumbled backwards, grabbing at its skull as we all proceeded to grab a hold of it and force it backwards towards the cage. Its increasingly weakened struggle continued until, with one final fist to the bottom of its jaw, it slumped backwards and fell to the floor of its cage.

The doc, in an almost frantic flurry of events, quickly slammed the door shut and fumbled with his keys until he finally managed to lock the door, "thank God these walls are soundproof, otherwise some serious shit would be hitting the fan right now," he let out a sigh of relief, he turned to us, giving a small smirk as he took in our appearances, "you guys again? I know I shouldn't be complaining; you probably just saved me some nasty injuries back there, but come on. You guys were here less than a week ago."

"Yeah, yeah, we know," I gave a dismissive wave, "but that was different. No food poisoning of any type, that I promise you."

He gave a sigh in a mixture of exertion and exasperation, then chuckled, a sign his usual, less than serious self was coming back, "fair enough. Now what can the amazing Alex J. Mercer help you with tonight?"

"Sickle broke her arm. Again," Starrk sighed, laying down on one of the counters that lined the room as if it were his bed, "wasn't being careful enough."

Alex stared at Sickle, a look that clearly meant "really?" crossing his face, "seriously? Again?" he sighed, throwing his hands up in mock desperation, "how many times has this been now? Eight? Nine? Or have we all lost track now?"

"Yeah, this is number eight," Coal grinned, "number eight since New Years."

"I do not break things that often!" Sickle snapped, and Alex just let out another chuckle. She sighed, "alright. Let's just get this over with," she sat up on the examination table while Alex went to get his tools, with me close in tow.

"So what was that thing we kicked back in the cage?" I pressed, "or do I want to know?"

"Let's just leave it at 'you don't want to know,'" he stated as he began his search for certain tools, "so how did Sickle break her arm this time? Because if it has anything to do with vehicles, knives, or chains, I am _not_ treating it."

"Street fight. Some guy in a fancy suit got her arm and snapped it like a twig," I shrugged, and Alex gave another chuckle.

"Street fight? I thought those were long gone. So what's with the change of pace?" Alex asked as he pulled out a scalpel, muttering under his breath about how he might have to cut her arm open to get the bones back in alignment.

"Face it Alex," I stated, a tone of smug matter-of-fact-ness tinging my voice, "the street fights won't end. They'll never end. Besides, what fun is life going to be for us without a street fight every now and then?"

"Coming from the guy who gets into the fights," he shot back as his hand hovered over the anesthetic, as though considering whether or not to use it, "you aren't the guy who has to treat your injuries afterwards. That falls to me, and believe it or not, it is not my dream job to be putting bones and noses back in alignment or stitching up nasty cuts and making amputations on infections. But that's off topic. So how come you got into another fight? Are the Hell's Angels trying to make a second comeback?"

"Nah, they won't be around here again for a while. They'll lick their wounds for a bit before coming back, but they weren't much to deal with then, so I'm not worried," I inspected a vial full of black, syrupy liquid, cold to the touch and almost... I don't know... fleshy, "saw some kids getting chased by guys in suits. The kids weren't much, but the guys in suits looked like they should be in magazines. They were surprisingly tough, though... almost like they weren't entirely human."

Alex gripped my hand as I reached for the vial, a look that was a mixture of "touch that and you die" and "it's a bad day for all of us if that breaks" making itself prominent in his smooth, sharp facial features. He continued as he pulled me away from the vial, "not entirely human? In what way?"

"I'm not entirely sure," I broke free of his grip, but continued to follow him nonetheless, "it was just... something didn't feel right about them. Something was off, majorly off. And the kids were off too, in a way. I don't know what it was, but... something was off. And I could have sworn when I first saw them," Alex stared at me intently, and I cursed at myself for not keeping my mouth shut. I swallowed slightly before finishing, my voice low so the others wouldn't hear "I could have sworn when I first saw them at the concert the other night... they had wings."

The doctor before me was silent for a moment, lowering his hands to set the scalpel in his hands down, "wings, you say?"

I nodded. Alex gave a low curse under his breath, "damn you, Jeb... what are you doing sending them here...?"

"Is there something wrong, doc?" I asked.

Alex gave a severe flinch, putting his hands up as if to defend himself from me and taking a step back, "please, Blitz, don't call me that. I've asked you before, don't call me a doctor."

"What's eating you, Alex? Why do you hate being called a doctor so much? It's your title, you earned it. Why shouldn't I call you by it?" I stated, hopping up on the counter to look him in the eye.

He gave a low, melancholy sigh, shaking his head slightly, "I'm not a doctor, Blitz. Doctors are supposed to help people. What I'm doing here," he swept his hand across the room, "what the people I'm working for are making me do is anything but. I'm not a doctor, Blitz. What I do here every day..."

"You're helping Sickle," I pointed out, "you're helping us. And by helping us, you're helping everyone in the city. Winged Cross stands as something they can look up to. You're supporting us with free treatment whenever one of us gets injured or sick. Isn't that enough to call yourself a doctor?"

He stared at me, his eyes moist with tears, "trust me when I say this, Blitz. If you knew what I did down here today, what I've been doing ever since I got here, what I'm going to have to do in the future, you would not be calling me a doctor."

I sat in uncomfortable silence as Alex went back to work preparing his tools. Then something in my head clicked, "you mentioned someone named Jeb earlier. A friend of yours?"

"Not really. More of a colleague," he stated, wiping his scalpel with disinfectant before setting it back down on the white towel he'd set out, "we've had our fair share of... debates."

"You spoke about him like you two knew what was going on with those kids," I pressed, "is there something you're keeping from me on this?"

He glanced at me, and I continued "do you know something about those kids?"

He stood silently for a moment before giving another sigh, "I don't know what this is all about, Blitz. But do yourself a favor. Stay out of it. And before you argue with me," he raised a hand to cut off my protest, "I'm going to tell you this; Winged Cross is though, I'll give you guys that much. But what you're getting yourselves into is way over your heads. If you dig any further than you already have, you may wind up dead. Don't put yourselves in that kind of danger."

"And since when have we listened to that advice?" I snorted, "we've been told that by the police time and time again. Have we ever listened?"

"Blitz, this is different than the street gangs you're used to. What we're talking about here is highly trained military forces-"

"No. We haven't listened," I cut him off firmly, "I don't know what this is about either, but I'm not just going to give up because someone tells me to. If what you're telling me here is true, then we're going to need your help even more than before."

I caught his gaze again, and he bit at his lip, as though trying to decide what was his best option. I continued to dig for his compliance "if there is anything you can do to help us out with this, then please, do it. Tell us everything, and we'll try to deal with it. We haven't failed you before, Alex. We're not about to start now. So what do you say?"

Another moment of silence. He threw his hands up in the air in exasperated compliance, "alright. You win. I'll see what I can dig up. But until I'm sure, you won't get any info. Got it?"

I extended my hand, grinning as the reluctant doctor took it, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

He nodded, "in the meantime, I need to get to work on Sickle's arm. As always-"

"Don't touch anything," I finished, then hopped off the counter, and Alex nodded again as he gathered his tools, and walked over to Sickle's table, his scalpel glinting in the dim light as he selected it from the tight bundle.

* * *

MAX

It was hours since the rain had started. The sky was dark and quickly getting darker, and we were yet to have any ideas for shelter, having barely found the password for the bank card a little earlier. Iggy and Gazzy were silent, brooding angrily as they walked as far away from me as possible, their anger rolling off them in waves so powerful I could almost taste it. Nudge, ever the peace maker, walked in the middle, trying to coax the pyrotechnic duo into coming up to walk with me, but they were unresponsive to everything she said. Angel was barely able to walk, so she held onto my hand for support, and Fang walked silently behind me, slightly to my side, and his face combined with his insistent silence told me one thing every time I looked at it; "you did the right thing, Max."

Yeah. I could totally tell from how miserable everyone was.

I kept glancing at the rosary in my hands that I'd gotten from Skye, wondering just what about Blitz had made me so hostile towards him. Sure, I had little reason to trust him, but that didn't mean I had to hate him on the spot either. But then again, if he was untrustworthy, the only way to make sure he stayed out of my way was to make sure he knew what he was dealing with. That lead to why he reacted so violently to Angel, and why he knew she was in his head. He had turned from one of the nicest people I'd met to someone who wanted nothing more than to bite out my baby's throat. Something about him didn't add up, but all the same, my conflicted feelings of the hatred that insisted I was right and the remorse that told me otherwise continued to clash, seeming to rip me apart from the inside.

"The subway tunnels," Iggy spoke for the first time in hours.

"What?" I turned to him, his blank eyes wide with some realization.

"The subway tunnels. We can use them for the night," he stated, and we all glanced at each other. Not really having much else for options, we soon found ourselves in the darkness of the tunnels beneath the city, wandering through the dark until I'd decided we could stop. With our backs against the stone and the air only somewhat warmer for our soaking wet clothes, we gratefully slept in silence. By now, my headache was about to split my skull in two, and my only comfort was in Fang, who'd decided to stay up with me. The pain grew and grew, filling my head to bursting point until a voice other than Fang's broke into my thoughts.

"Who's screwing with my mac?!"

I shot up as soon as the voice sounded, young and tinged with annoyance and rage.

Fang shot to his feet, fists raised as he inched slightly closer to me, his teeth bared, "who's there?!"

"Who are _you? _What are you doing? You've crashed my whole system..." there was a loud curse, and the voice grew ever closer, light footsteps echoing through the subway tunnels, "worthless dipstick!"

Fang continued to inch closer to my prone form as a light began to emerge from the darkness, "what are you talking about?" when no answer came and the footsteps stopped, he shouted into the dark, "show yourself!"

"My system crashed. I've tracked the interference, and it's comin' from you!" a boy not much older than Nudge stepped out from the shadows, his lightly shaded hair filthy with muck and grime, clashing with the green hat on his head. Large glasses covered his eyes and obscured his filthy face, and a green, bulky winter jacket wrapped around him like a cocoon. He held a laptop in his arms, and a pack wrapped around his winter jacket like he was trying to keep a whole computer system on him at once. Army green fingerless gloves encased his flexing hands as he grated his teeth, and shouted again, "so I'm tellin' you to knock it off - or else!" he glanced at me, the look on his face mixing with anger, disgust and pity, "and what's with _her?_ She trippin'? Because here in New York, dealin' with drugs is a bad idea, especially considering that I keep tabs on whoever does that kind of stuff."

"She's fine," Fang hissed, his fists clenched as he took a step towards the boy, "we don't know anything about your computer. If you've got any brains at all, you'll get out of here now."

"I'm not going nowhere until you stop messing with my mac," the boy stepped forwards, spreading his arms as far as he could without dropping his computer, as if to say 'come at me, bro,' "why don't you get your girlfriend to a hospital anyways?"

I felt my face flush at the word 'girlfriend.' Mustering all my strength, I sat up, trying to make myself as intimidating as I could, "who the hell are you? What are you talking about?"

The kid rolled his eyes as if it were obvious, tasked, turning his computer to give us a look at the screen, "I'm talkin' about this!"

When I saw what had made its way across the blue screen of the kid's laptop, I felt my heart almost stop. Typing across the screen was the same phrase, over and over again without pause; "Hello, Max." I felt my blood run cold as it stopped, and typed out a new phrase across the screen "Welcome to New York."

"W-What the...!?" I almost yanked the computer out of the kid's hands to get a better look, to reassure myself that this wasn't a dream. Almost immediately the typing began again, and something sounded throughout the tunnels.

"I knew you'd come," the voice stated, perfectly timed with the computer, "I've got big plans for you."

"Did you hear that?" chills shot down my spine as I spoke, and the kid gave me a look that told me he thought I was nuts.

"Hear what?" Fang placed his hand on my shoulder, half to comfort me, half to try and bring my attention back here.

"What's the deal?" the kid asked, more concerned than angry, but clearly still not too happy with what was going on. It quickly turned to suspicion and anger with his next question, "who's Max? How're you doing this?"

"We're not doing anything," Fang stated, clearly getting annoyed with having to repeat himself.

A change in the light brought the kid's attention back to his computer. He gave a loud curse as he sat down, "what's going on now?!"

I squeezed up on one side of him, trying to get a look at the screen, Fang trying to do the same. Words, articles and images shot across the screen and through my head at rapid speed, four things making themselves profound in my head; the first, a gigantic building with a gate that made it look like some kind of military compound, and a lightning bolt pattern making its way on the front of the building all the way up to the top; the second, a man in a white lab coat, nearly six feet in height with pale skin, spiked brown hair, a serious expression stared at me, his name tag bearing the title "Dr. A. Mercer"; and last, the names "Gentek" and "BLACKWATCH" flashed through my mind and across the screen before becoming lost in the stream.

The kid began typing again, his voice low with curiosity rather than anger, "okay... I'm gonna track this down."

A few keys later, the screen went black, and the tunnel was plunged into darkness as the computer shut itself down.

"WHAT IS THIS?!" the kid shrieked, waking the rest of the flock and making me and Fang back away with astonishing speed, "THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!"

He clicked on a flashlight as our eyes adjusted to the dark. He turned to glare at em, "I don't know how you're doing it. Where's your gear?"

Fang tossed his hands in the air in a mock shrug, "we don't have any gear. Spooky, isn't it?"

The kid shrugged as he folded up his laptop, slipping it into the pack he wore on his front, "you guys on the run? You in trouble?"

I felt my eyes narrow as familiar suspicion took me over again, "what makes you think that?"

He gave me a look that clearly questioned my common sense, "let me see. Maybe because you're a bunch of _kids_ sleeping in a _subway tunnel._ Kind of clues me in, you know?"

I mentally facepalmed at the obvious conclusion, then countered with my own question, "what about you? You're a kid sleeping in a subway tunnel. Don't you have school?"

He snorted, "first off, I'm not sleeping here. I just tracked the interference for my mac here. Secondly, M. I. T. kicked me out. I got an early admission. I was gonna major in computer technology and everything. I would have been sittin' pretty, but I wouldn't take my thorazine. They said no thorazine, no school," he adjusted his hat, "no haldol, no melleril, no zyprexa. They all suck. People want me to do what I'm told, don't make trouble."

Everyone sat in silence for a moment, even the recently awakened flock. That was a situation we could all sympathize with."

Fang decided to break the uncomfortable silence, "so what's with up with your computer?"

The kid gave a sudden smirk of pride, "it's my bread and butter. I can hack into anything. Sometimes, the group I'm with pays me for it, though when I do it for them, it's mainly just to help out. They do pay me when I need money, tho-" he cut himself off, his eyes wide with sudden fear as he backed away a few steps, "why? Who wants to know?"

Fang blinked slowly, taken aback by the sudden change in the kid's tune, "chill out, dude. We're just having a chat."

"Who sent you? Who are you? the boy continued to back away, fear taking him over as he dug through one of his pockets, "you stay away from me, you hear me?! You know what this is?!" he shouted frantically as he pulled out a rosary - a winged rosary, its wings outstretched in all their glory. There was a quick hush as it settled in that he was a part of Winged Cross, and he turned and ran, shouting one last thing over his shoulder as he bolted, "just stay away!"

"Hey wait!" Fang reached out into the darkness, but he was already gone.

I sighed, smiling inwardly, "it's always so refreshing to meet someone crazier than us. We always seem so normal afterwards."

"We?" Fang asked, his voice one of total deadpan.

"At least we know what names to look for," I stated, "we'll start looking tomorrow, okay guys?"

All but two of our voices answered. I felt my brow furrow as I turned around, "Iggy? Gazzy?" I asked, stepping further into the dark. Then I felt a pair of strong hands grab onto my wrist, and yank something away, releasing me as quickly as it had come. I whirled about, lashing wildly, but coming in contact with nothing, my sensitive ears picking up a pair of footsteps as whoever it was dashed down the subway tunnel.

"Is everyone alright?" I shouted shakily.

"I'm alright," Nudge yawned.

"Here," Fang touched my shoulder again.

"I'm okay... but Iggy and Gazzy..." Angel began.

I felt my blood run cold as I stepped towards Angel's voice, "is something wrong, Ange?"

"Iggy and Gazzy... they whispered for a bit... then they..." she swallowed, "they took the rosary, Max. They're going after the kid."

I felt my blood go from cold to utterly frozen and I turned to face the darkness where the two pyromaniacs had disappeared, and gave a low whisper, "oh, no... what do you two think you're doing?" I stepped forwards, then we all broke into a run after our two missing brothers in a wild attempt to stop them.

* * *

GAZZY

"Are we getting closer?" I huffed to Iggy, blind as he was in the darkness and holding the rosary we'd stolen from Max in a death grip.

"Oh, yeah. I can hear him running," Iggy stated, running smoothly in the darkness compared to my constant stumble, "we're gaining on him. You do have the rosary, right?"

"Got it," I tightened my grip on it to make sure I still had it in my hand, "let's see if this guy can help us out with Blitz."

"You really think we can fix things with him?" Iggy asked, his voice echoing through the dark.

"Of course we can," I grated my teeth, "he has to listen! He has to!"

"You don't sound so certain," Iggy pointed out my wavering confidence, and I clenched my fists tighter, tight enough to make pain shoot up my arms.

We ran in silence until something finally caught my vision, "I think I see his flashlight ahead," I pushed myself harder, "keep going!"

With an extra burst of speed, we rushed forwards through the winding tunnel, the kid slowly coming closer and closer into view. I let out a shout, "hey, wait!"

He glanced back for an instant before letting out a yelp and running faster, his obvious fatigue beginning to drain him, "stay away!"

"Look, kid, we're not going to hurt you!" Iggy shouted, "if we wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be running right now! Would you just hear us out?!"

The kid just ran faster in response, totally unwilling to stop for any reason. Iggy yelled out in equal parts exasperation and desperation "we have a recommendation to join Winged Cross from Skye, aka Starrk!"

The kid glanced back, slowing slightly for an instant, and I frantically waved the rosary out in front of me to show that we weren't a threat. He slowed down, and came to an eventual stop, turning to face us, his face red and his breath ragged from exhaustion. He approached us slowly, and took the rosary in his hands, inspecting it with care. He glanced at Iggy, then at me, "Starrk? As in, the parkour master of Winged Cross, Starrk? He gave this to you?"

"Yep," I took the crucifix back from him, and his eyes narrowed.

"Then why aren't you with them now?" he pressed, showing his own crucifix with unfolded wings, "they should be looking you over."

I felt my gaze drift away from him, and Iggy spoke out again, "we... screwed things up with Blitz. I mean, big time screwed things up. We have no idea where to look for Winged Cross, and we want to try and fix things," he took a step forwards, "could you at least tell us where to go?"

There was a short silence as the kid stood, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Then he sighed, "ah, what the heck. I'm on my way there anyways," he turned around, "come on. I'll take you there."

I felt my eyes widen, unable to believe our luck as we started down the tunnel. Iggy, no longer able to suppress his smile of hopeful joy, asked "so what's your name?"

"Mike. I do computer hacks for Winged Cross. Get records for them like where to look for gangs or drug trading stations. I also keep tabs on particular areas for drug dealers or street gangs. Let me tell you, it isn't easy, not when you have to go between two separate groups," he shrugged.

"Two different groups?" I asked, suddenly curious, "you mean there isn't just one Winged Cross group?"

"Oh, no. No. There's two major groups, with some minor ones scattered throughout different cities along the coast and some places inland. The two main groups are the New York branch, the one headed by Blitz, and the Los Angeles branch. I work as a messenger between the two groups as well. And the L.A. branch... hoo, boy, you do _not_ want to piss them off. They are much more brutal than the guys here," Mike swallowed slightly, giving a slight shiver before quickening his pace, "come on. Just thinking about what she did to me is giving me horrible flashbacks. Let's get to Winged Cross before I have a nervous breakdown."

We walked on in silence for a bit before Mike asked "so aren't you going to bring the rest of your little group?"

I swallowed, then shook my head, "no. We're worried that if we bring them, it'll just end on bad terms again. We want to make sure we make this work."

Mike studied me for a moment as we walked, then shrugged, "have it your way. This is Burger King, after all."

We all let out a hoot of laughter before doubling our pace. It wasn't long before we'd left the relatively warm solace of the subway tunnels for the frozen cascade of the torrential downpour and icy winds of the storms near the docks, where the warehouses were built. Trudging on through the cold and over the slippery concrete, we made our way over to the last one on the edge of the docks, the chain link fence that had been set up around it having been torn open. We ducked under it, and made our way to the front door, which, from the look of it, had been forced open a long time ago and was used regularly since.

Mike slammed his fist on the door, pausing a moment after the first two before smashing his fist against it with all his might a third time, "come on, guys, please be in there," he muttered.

There was a short silence before Mike repeated the pattern the door opening right as he reached the third hit. Warmth, glorious warmth seeped from the door and into my body, taking me into a comfortable trance before Blitz's voice broke my trance "hey, Mikey. I heard you were in town. Good to see you. So how's L.A.?"

"Oh, you know. Not much fun," Mike glanced away, "these are..."

"I'm Gazzy," I stated, catching Blitz's attention for the first time, "and this is Iggy."

He nodded, his expression unreadable, "I remember you. I also remember that I retracted my offer to let you stay here. So why are you here?"

I swallowed, actually nervous about what we had come to do now that we were here, "um... we..."

"We came to apologize for what happened," Iggy stated, "we appreciate the help you gave us in the alley. Max... she's just a bit paranoid, with everything we've been through. We can't explain everything, but we'll tell you what we can. So can we just... start this all over between our groups?"

For a while, Blitz said nothing, and I was afraid he was going to shut the door and leave us sitting in the cold. Then he opened the door all the way, "come on. Let's get you guys out of the rain."

* * *

Another chapter bites the dust. And yes, Itex has been replaced by Gentek. Got a problem with it?


	5. Brewing Conflict

I do not own Maximum Ride. If I did, Ari would not have died. Nor do I own Bleach, for I have a character with a certain nickname in here. Nor do I own Prototype, but that will come in much later.

* * *

ALEX

I lost myself in thought as my own footsteps echoed through the familiar halls of the Gentek building. What the hell was Jeb even doing in New York? And why Were Winged Cross getting involved because of some kind of trap set up for them? If so, what did Jeb want with them?

While there was no surefire way for me to get these answers, I knew exactly where to start looking.

As I finally reached the door I had searched for the past hour for, a hushed voice echoed from above. Hushed, yet echoing, sending chills down my spine as I whipped about, the horrible familiarity of the voice sending my heart rate off the charts. Seeing no one there, I let out a shaken sigh of relief, "damn... working with the others up on that floor must be getting to my head... sometimes, I hate being the guy in charge of that project."

Shaking my head to get myself back on track, I doubled my pace. I didn't want to be this close to that _thing_ on the floor above for any longer than I had to.

It wasn't long before I reached the door I was looking for, but before I could reach the handle, the door slammed open, a man well over six and a half feet in height storming out of it, his face contorted in a snarl of anger and frustration, his hands clenching and unclenching unconscious of his will. He wore a pair of ragged jeans, black, worn, iron-toed work boots that looked like they should be put to use on an oil rig or in a gold mine. His gray, sleeveless muscle shirt was stained a dark grey by the sweat that dripped down his arms, neck and face, his scarred, tan skin glistening with the salty liquid. His long, rustic red hair had been styled similar to Blitz's - somewhat short on the top, front and sides, spiked on all sides except the back, which had been tied into a ponytail down the length of his spine to the bottom of his shoulder blades. His liquid gold eyes glistened in the dim light of the halls, almost glowing with rage. His breath was harsh, labored from his attempt to keep himself calm, and his face was rough, with slightly sharp features, giving it an almost wolfish visage. Four long scars caressed the left side of his face, going from his hairline to the bottom of his jaw, going over his eye and seeming as if something had tried to claw off his face. His forearms and top of his chest were covered in a thick, rustic red hair that no man with a normal level of testosterone should have, and his teeth seemed unnaturally sharp, like that of a canine. But under all of that ruggedness, there was something familiar about the man, something that sent more chills down my spine than what that thing above ever could. As he set his eyes on me, they immediately narrowed, his jaw setting and his lips closing, his hands giving a long, slow flex as if considering using me as a punching bag to relieve his stress.

I stood my ground, speaking with a certain commanding tone I could rarely muster, "if you're going to try to break my arms, I would advise against it. It won't end well for anyone."

He snorted, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that erupted deep from within his throat, "please. Nothing's gone my way in years. What's one more thing against me?"

"You'd be surprised," I removed my hand from my pocket, bringing out an I.D. card, "Alex J. Mercer, research head of the BLACKLIGHT project and lead scientist on DNA and biology."

He blinked, "doesn't make much difference to me. I don't even know what BLACKLIGHT is. No one ever takes the time to explain anything to me. All I am to them is their damn attack dog. Not even my own father cares."

I felt my own eyes narrow for an instant, then widen as the image of a toddler came into my mind, "you... you wouldn't happen to be related to Jeb Batchedler, would you?"

He tilted his head slightly, "and why would you be so interested in the man who sees me, his own son as some kind of dog, while he treats his precious Max like she's some kind of goddess?"

I felt my breathing begin to go ragged, "A... Ari...?"

"The only one," he snorted, giving his neck a slight crack, then rolling his shoulders slightly, "I'm surprised someone here even knows my name. Most people just call me 'eraser.'"

I felt my weight give an involuntary shift, then felt myself straighten, my muscles tense, my voice gaining an edge of steel, "where's Jeb?"

"What's it to you?" Ari scratched the back of his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm going to pump information out of him. Then, I'm going to break his teeth in, and make him eat them, one at a time," I managed through grated teeth.

The boy turned eraser studied me for a moment, then shrugged, "he's pretty much right through the door. I don't know what you want so badly, but make sure he gets it. Might get his brain on the right track again."

I nodded in thanks, then strode past the towering seven year old, throwing the door open and storming into the office of Jeb Batchedler. I took in a breath as I stared at the man who had glued his eyes to the paperwork on his desk, his blond hair and mustache having earned streaks of gray all throughout. His silver-rimmed glasses glinted in the dim light, and ice blue eyes studied the research with a brooding frustration. His lab coat was pure white, and his I.D. hung from his collar on the right side of his chest.

Keeping my voice as cold and calm as I could, I still could not keep the edge out of my words as I spoke "hello, Jeb."

He barely glanced up before reaching for a pen, "I do not believe that we are on a first name basis," he uncapped the pen and began to scrawl across the paper, "Dr. Mercer."

I felt my eye gave a slight twitch as he continued, "why are you here, Doctor? You would never come to my office for no reason, considering your dislike for both me and the subject of your project."

"What I want to know," I hissed, taking a step towards the desk, "is what you're doing sending those winged kids out here, to New York. The ones you're so damn proud of."

He raised his head, his eyes cold and studious, emotionless, "you say that as if you have the right to interrogate me about such matters."

"I don't care if I have the right to do so or not, Jeb," I felt my fists clench as it became ever more difficult to not strike the man, "you're going to tell me what you know and what you want. And why you let those twisted fucks turn your own son into an eraser."

He shrugged, "why should that matter to you?"

In that single moment, I.

Just.

Snapped.

I wound up, and struck the sociopath across the face with every ounce of force I could muster. The man fell sideways to the floor, his temple catching the side of the desk as he crashed to earth. As blood poured from the wound on the side of his forehead, he glanced up, his eyes narrowed through his cracked glasses, "you realize I can charge you for assault for that. Possibly even have you fired."

"Don't bother answering my second question," I spat, "you're just as sick as the bastards who turned Ari into an eraser. You don't even care, do you?"

"My feelings for my son are my own to worry about, Dr. Mercer," Jeb readjusted his glasses as he got to his feet, rubbing at his sore jaw, "and I suggest you worry about your own business instead of mine."

I grabbed him by the collar of his lab coat, my fist once again poised to drive itself into his face. Barely keeping my composure from any further degeneration, I spoke slowly, clearly, "do. Not. Call. Me. That. You twisted fuck!" as I let myself get my composure back in place, I let out a sigh, "now, then... I'm only going to ask you this once. What the hell are you doing, sending those winged kids here?"

There was a short silence before he spoke, evidently trying to keep his own composure, "how did you know they are here? And why are you so interested in them?"

"Unlike you, Jeb, I have people who I am as honest with as I can be without getting them killed," I smirked slightly, "plus, you're the one who showed them to me. Not the first time I've disagreed with you on something. We always did have differing morals. But if I remember correctly, they're the only thing that kept Gentek from bumping you off once you quit the BLACKLIGHT project."

He adjusted his glasses again, "what they are doing here is none of your concern, Dr. Mercer. And you aren't really one to be talking about morality."

I stiffened, then sighed, releasing my grip on the psychotic maniac, "no. I guess I'm not. But why do you think I hate being called a doctor, Jeb?"

Another silence. I turned, and started towards the door, "doctors are supposed to help people, Jeb. You and me, we're far from helping people. What we're doing is anything but."

"What you're doing, perhaps," he stated as I reached for the handle, "but what I have planned for Max and the others shall save millions, billions of lives. In order to do that, sacrifices must be made."

"Even Ari? Is he just another one of your 'sacrifices' for Max's sake?"

A third, and final silence between us. I snorted, "no wonder he hates Max. No wonder he hates you," I opened the door, "now, I'll take my leave. Have a good night, Jeb."

As I strode out into the hall, the towering form of Ari peeled itself from the wall as he strode to walk beside me. He smirked, "I heard the crash from outside. I don't know what you did, but it sounded like it hurt."

"I've got no doubt that it did," I sighed.

"Just the sound of that old bastard hitting the floor... man, it sends chills down my spine," Ari slammed his fist into his palm, "I haven't felt something that good in a long time."

A short silence besides the light sound of my shoes and the heavy clomp of Ari's boots on the floor. Then, something nuts occurred to me. Something that could give Ari something better than what he had...

"Ari," I stated slowly, my voice having gone into a whisper, "have you ever considered leaving Gentek behind? Starting over?"

"Hell, yes," he snorted, "but this is all I've got. I'm a freakin' eraser, I'm seven years old, I have a temper, and to top it all off, I can't even read. I wouldn't make it in the world, and Gentek would just find me again."

"What if I were to offer you an opportunity to get out?" I began rubbing at the rosary in my pocket, "it is possible. Not easy, but it's possible. People have done it."

Another short silence as Ari frowned, going over the options in his head. Then he turned to look at me, "I'm listening."

"I can't give you all the details here, for obvious reasons," I gestured to a nearby security camera, "but I can offer a way out. There is one catch, though."

"And that is?" Ari's voice gained an edge of steel.

"You'll need to cut all ties with Gentek. For good. So you'll be spending several months on your own until everything dies down."

Another silence. Ari contorted slightly, shaking, then threw his head back with an echoing laughter of pure joy, "that's not a catch! That's a feature!" he grabbed me by the shoulders, "when do we start?!"

"Now, now, calm down. I'll explain everything to you a little later," I patted my hand against one of his massive shoulders, smirking. Then I turned, and started down the hall, "soon. We start soon. That's a promise."

* * *

BLITZ

I gave a long sigh as I brought myself as close as I could to the fire in the center of the room, staring at the two kids who'd come to try and fix things. I couldn't really blame them for trying, but still...

The kids - Iggy and Gazzy, if I remembered correctly - sat across from me, shifting nervously as they basked in the warmth of the hissing fire before them, Gazzy glancing about at the other members of Winged Cross scattered throughout the room as they drew to a conclusion on what they were willing to tell of their story, from leaving Colerado to get to California for unspecified reasons, to leaving California to get to New York, again for uspecified reasons using on both trips, you guessed it, unspecified means of transportaion, to when Starrk gave them the rosary of reccomendation.

"So let me get this whole thing straight," I put my hands out in front of me, "you six kids are on the run? I'm willing to believe that. Everyone has things to hide, so I won't pry... but who are you running from? And why?"

Silence as Gazzy looked away, and Iggy lowered his head, his hair covering his blinded eyes. I waited a long ten seconds before continuing, "alright. Like I said, I won't pry. Some things are too personal to say. I would know. But," I stopped, making sure their attention was on me, "there's one thing that doesn't make sense. You said that you and your friends had come here to New York all the way from California in less than a week."

"What about that doesn't make sense?" Iggy asked, obviously surprised.

"The fact that on foot it would take you _at least_ six months. Even if you were to steal a car or a van or something, even catch a ride on a pickup truck or a semi, it would take you no less than a few days over a week. And yet you say you did it in excess of five days?" I shook my head, the looks on their faces giving away the fact that they'd been caught off-guard by my analysis, "sorry if I seem suspicious, but that doesn't add up. Unless you caught a ride on a jet, or spontaniously sprouted wings, I doubt you'd-"

I cut myself off as I stared at the two, how they cringed at my little joke of sprouting wings. I gave a long slow blink, then shrugged, "okay. I get it. Too personal. But still, it makes no sense to me," I stood, rolling my aching shoulders, "I'm not going to kick you back in the rain, but I need to know some of this stuff, alright? It's like you said with... Max, was it? I'm paranoid. The people around you are all I have. If keeping you guys around is going to bring threats to us, I need to know about them beforehand, before something bad happens. Anything that has potential as a danger needs to be known, so that we know what we're dealing with. Alright?"

More silence.

I shook my head, "come on. Let's all head to sleep. We'll finish up tomorrow."

"You aren't finishing anything," another voice called out, "and I'm going to kick your ass, then I'm going to kick the skinny asses of those two idiots for making me worry!"

I turned my gaze to the back, and there stood four familiar, soaking figures, dripping wet and silhouetted against the dim gray light from the clouds outside. At the front stood Max, her brown eyes almost glowing with rage as Iggy and Gazzy backed away, almost accidentally stepping on the fire as they moved.

"Well, look who came to join the party," I smirked, "so what did you come here for, Max? Swallowing your pride already?"

"I'm here to get Iggy and Gazzy back, you jackass!" Max spat, "now get out of my way, or we'll beat you all to the ground!"

I felt my eyes narrow at the challenge, "I'd like to see you try."

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, guys," Iggy took a step forwards, "we can talk this over. We don't need to kill each other over this."

"Iggy's right," Starrk spoke up, "let's just talk this over, save ourselves the nightmare."

"Shut up," Max snarled.

"I agree with bitchy over there. I'm pissed, and I feel like a rumble," Sickle's hands twitched, even with her arm in a cast as she dropped down from one of the storage boxes.

I shook my head, walking forwards, the other members of Winged Cross close behind me, their hands trailing to thier weapons or clenching into fists, "you really think this is a fight you can win, Max? On top of it, they came here. We didn't drag them here. They followed Mikey, and now that I've had a chance to talk with them, I rather like the guys. If you back off right now, we can just call this all off and start over. I'll even overlook that little mind-control stunt you tried on me. What do you say?" I extended my hand, "truce?"

Max stared at me for a long ten seconds, then drove her fist into the side of my jaw - the hardest I'd been hit since my fights with Yarai. I sprawled slightly, the others letting out a gasp, rubbing at my jaw, and Max spat again, "I'll bet you aren't so tough with those idiots behind you. Remove them, and you're just a brat, a weakling. Fuck you, and fuck your little truce. Now, I'm going to kick your ass and take Iggy and Gazzy with me when I leave."

I continued rubbing at my jaw, a grin I haven't had in a long time spreading across my face, "is that a challenge?'

The others immediately backed away as I lifted my head, giving Max a good look at my face. The girl, Nudge, covered her mouth with her hands to keep herself from screaming, Angel looked away in fear, and Fang grimaced. Max, however, merely stood there, her eyes wide as she stared at the savage grin that had plastered itself across my face as I spoke again, "challenge accepted."

I stepped forwards, spreading my arms, "you've gotten me fired up for a fight. So come on, Max! If you're so sure of yourself, then let's do this, one on one, mano a mano, leader against leader! Winner takes all!"


	6. Fight Between Leaders

I do not own Maximum Ride. If I did, Ari would not have died. Nor do I own Bleach, for I have a character with a certain nickname in here. Nor do I own Prototype, but that will come in much later.

* * *

MAX

While I allowed myself a slight smirk on the outside as I faced Blitz, inside I felt hollow, cold... afraid. That grin was something I had never seen on a person; it was savage, feral, primal, a personification of the animal man could become. It was clear from that smile alone that he was a danger to everyone around him should he get into a fight.

But it didn't take much for me to squash those feelings down, and my smirk grew with my confidence. It wasn't like this kid was an eraser. He had nothing special to boast about.

This should be simple. Easy.

"Fine. If that's really the way things have to be settled," I stepped forwards, and he beckoned, walking towards the fire in the center of the room as the door slammed shut again, a resounding CLANG sending chills down my spine. When he reached the center, he kicked away the burning pieces of wood, scattering the coals and clearing the floor as the fire and sparks began to die down, robbed of their fuel.

"Well?" his grin was gone now, replaced by a simple smirk, "shall we dance?"

In response, I rushed at him, bringing my fist once again into the side of his jaw. He stumbled back, caught off-guard by my speed as I brought my knee up into his abdomen. I then proceeded to back up a step, raising both my fists and slamming them into the back of his skull, sending his face crashing into the floor. For a long five seconds, nothing happened. I spat, "guess you were all talk after all."

I spun on my heel, but before I could go any more than three steps, the sound of insane laughter shot through the room. I glanced back, and Blitz was back on his feet, bleeding from his nose, mouth, temple and forehead, his goggles broken, his eyes shut and mouth opened wide as he continued to laugh, "not bad! Not bad at all, Max! You surprised me with that!" he grinned, then his eyes opened, his gaze that of someone with a sanity strained beyond recognition, his smile gone, "but... there was something wrong with those strikes," he took a step forwards, "you were holding back. I could tell. You were holding more than half of what you were really capable of back," his eyes narrowed again, and he licked at his bloody lips, catching the blood sending shivers down my spine as he swallowed, "I don't like people who look down on me, Max. That's something I can tell we both share. So you can understand..." in the next instant, he was suddenly less than an inch away from me, driving his fist into my stomach with all the force of a tank shell. I felt the air rush out of my lungs as I stumbled back, grabbing onto my stomach in pain before he drove his knee up into my face, sending me back even further as he proceeded to grab onto me by the throat, and drive me into the ground on my back, shouting even as I hit the concrete "why I hate it when people hold back on me!"

In the next instant, pain shot through my back and shoulders. But it was my wings that were in the most pain. Folded beneath my clothes against my spine, all fourteen feet of them were blazing with pain. I choked slightly as he tightened his grip, and brought his fist into my gut again, not even giving me a chance for breath. I lashed about wildly, my fist catching onto the side of his head and sending him rolling five feet away and allowing my lungs to once again flood themselves with air. I rolled away as fast as I could as Blitz once again charged, leaping and bringing his foot down right where my head once laid. I shot back up to my feet and crouched, breathing hard, trying to figure out how best to beat him down.

"Not bad," he rubbed at his jaw, "you have some strength in those arms, don't you? Still, you're not fighting to win this. You're holding back. You're trying to hide something. That's not what either of us want. I want to fight you at your best. You want to take your friends and leave. The only way I'm letting you do that without an explanation is if you beat me. Now come at me!"

I didn't hesitate. I just charged blindly, and we met in the dead center. Matching each other blow for blow, strike for strike, we struggled for the upper hand. I kicked him into one of many massive steel containers that were stacked in the enclosure, only for him to rush me again, catching me in the ribs and nearly breaking my bones with the force. He grabbed onto my wrist, and slammed his elbow into the back of mine, nearly breaking my arm in the process, and in response, I brought the back of my head into his face, making him back away and give me some breathing room as I kicked him in the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs and making him stumble away. With every exchange, I felt both confidence and dread creep further over me like a pair of cloaks and the fight continued to rage. All that mattered was the battle, foot to foot, fist to fist.

But something didn't make sense. It seemed like for every time I struck him, he came back and hit me even harder, no sign of fatigue or pain crossing his face or interrupting his crazed grin, his strength doubling with every strike I gave him. What the hell was going on?

* * *

FANG

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This... this kid, this totally normal _kid_ was fighting on par - no, as much as I hated to admit it, was _overpowering_ Max, his assault relentless as he backed her further and further into the corner known as defeat. My brain nearly refused to process what was happening, and I heard myself mutter "how is this happening?"

"It's simple, really."

The voice of the kid from the subway tunnel - Mikey, Blitz had called him - pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. He shook his head, "your girlfriend is really digging herself a deep grave."

I grabbed onto his jacket, panicked, "what the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"There's something wrong with Blitz's adrenal system."

I felt my gaze shift to Starrk, who was watching with pure focus. He caught my gaze, and turned to me, his eyes occasionally going back to the raging fight, "way back when he first joined, we noticed something odd about the way he fought. You'd think pain would add to fatigue; he only fought harder, faster. The more he was hit, the more he fought back, trying to win. We thought at first that it was just resolve, eventually it just became way more than that. We had a doctor check him out, and what he found was... odd, to say the least."

I felt my eyes narrow, and Nudge, transfixed by the fight, murmured "w-what did he find?"

"He found a glitch in Blitz's adrenal system," Mikey adjusted his glasses again, "you know how when you're under extreme stress or in pain, adrenaline is released into your system, right?"

"Yeah," Gazzy swallowed, his eyes darting back and forth from Max and Blitz as they continued to exchange blows.

"Well, Blitz... let's say he takes that, and multiplies it by ten. Whenever he takes pain or stress of any kind, adrenaline is released into his body like any other person. But his body releases it in huge amounts, amounts that increase as the pain or stress gets worse. It holds back his fatigue, and increases his ability to fight, letting him go for hours if he can last. The fact that he has an insanely high pain tolerance doesn't exactly lessen that."

Chills shot down my spine at this as I watched Blitz, blood dripping from his face as he grinned, continuing to push Max back. Mikey continued, "if you were to try and calculate that, his strength would roughly equal whatever his initial muscle ability was, plus double his pain and stress."

"Then that means..." me and Iggy both trailed off in transfixed fear.

"Yep," Sickle grinned, enjoying the show quite thoroughly, "the more your bitchy girlfriend hits him, the deeper a hole she's digging for herself trying to get out."

My eyes shot back to Max, and I knew I couldn't take it anymore. I ran forwards with every intention of helping her beat the little shit into the concrete, only to be tackled to the ground by Starrk, who had my arm in a lock, threatening to bend it backwards and break it, his foot on the back of my head, no doubt to stop me from interfering. I shouted "MAX!"

* * *

BLITZ

I was ecstatic. This fight was beautiful. The most fun I'd had since the previous leader of Winged Cross. Don't get me wrong; I'm no masochist, but the fact that I was actually having trouble here, being faced with an actual challenge, it filled me to the brim and overflowed me with sheer ecstasy (so I like a good fight. Call me Kenpachi and sue me).

"MAX!"

The voice of the pale-skinned, black haired kid who I believed to have been named Fang interrupted the fight, pinned down by Starrk, most likely for his attempt at running interference in the fight. He opened his mouth to speak, but Starrk gave his arm a twist, grinding his jaws back shut in pain.

"Sorry about this, but I can't let you interfere in any way; it's custom around here. People settle fights themselves, no interference from anyone else. While you're in here, those rules apply to all of you," Starrk gave each member of Max's group a long, cold stare as they watched both Max and Fang, pinned in their own situations. Starrk shrugged, relaxing his grip on Fang, but keeping him pinned all the same, "sorry. It's nothing personal."

I turned back to Max, who was glowering at me, rage blazing in her brown eyes. I shrugged, "look, it's something we set up a long time ago, alright? Fang brought that on himself. And as much as I'm enjoying this, it's getting ridiculous," I stepped forwards, "you sure you don't want to just cut the crap and forget this whole thing ever happened? My offer's still open."

"FUCK YOU!" she shrieked, rushing forwards and tackling me to the ground. I grated my teeth as I hit the concrete, pain shooting through my back and head, and I found Max sitting on top of me, her face twisted in a murderous snarl as she grabbed the sides of my head, and smashed it back into the concrete. Stars flooded my vision before she pinned my arms to the ground under her legs, straddling me as she began to pummel me about the head, her knuckles slamming into my face again and again, blood flooding my mouth and choking me, and still the blows came like an unending storm of fists. Finally, my limbs were flooded with the familiar feeling of the adrenaline my body naturally produced, and I let out a roar, throwing her off and sending her tumbling across the cold floor several meters away as I gave a quick rub at my bloody face, grating my teeth against one another; I know the words "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger" pretty much directly applies to me, but I hated pain just as much as the next guy. And damn, she could hit _hard!_

I breathed in deeply, the now cold air a blessing to my ragged lungs as I lunged at my opponent, my fist once again connecting with her jaw and sending her tumbling several feet away, where she promptly shot to her feet again. I had to admit, she was giving me quite a bit of trouble; I'd never fought someone with her particular disposition before. She had a height advantage on me, giving her superior reach, but oddly enough was much lighter than I was, making her easy to throw around, but putting her speed on par with mine and making it easy for her to move with a fluid agility most fighters didn't have. Her style was definitely street fighter, self-taught for the most part and tempered by a constant sparring partner of about her level, as well as actual combat; I could tell from her movements, the look in her eyes as she fought. But there was this constant, nagging feeling I couldn't seem to shake; the feeling that she was holding something back, hiding something from me, desperate to keep it a secret.

Not something I liked.

"Why."

I drove another fist into her shoulder as her foot connected with the underside of my jaw, and blood once again flooded my mouth, dripping slightly down my chin before I swallowed it.

"Won't."

Our legs clashed against each other as we both kicked Chuck Norris style, sending pain rippling down both our legs, the pain wracking through me and making itself prominent on Max's face. Shrugging off the unpleasantness of it, I stumbled backwards as another kick planted itself in my chest.

"You."

I took another punch to the shoulder, and I spun, using the momentum to drive my foot into her stomach.

"Fight."

I began a full assault on her, driving her back with a flurry of strikes as she backed away, dodging or blocking a few, but most of them connecting with her arms as she raised them to try and ward them off.

"Me."

I felt a sudden pain in the side of my head as she got in a lucky shot, a backhand that caught me off guard and put me in a slight daze, just long enough for her to begin an assault on me, driving me back slightly as I had her. I grated my teeth as I brought my arm up in a block, getting lucky and catching onto her right arm.

"With everything you've got!?"

As I finally finished my small rant, I sweeped her legs out from under her, throwing her off balance and bringing her to the ground. Gripping her arm with both hands, I slipped down onto my back on a ninety degree angle to her, placing one foot across her neck and the other on the ground, and began bending her arm backwards in the most powerful arm lock I knew. She let out a shout as I continued to push, and I smirked, "this is a technique I've never actually used in a fight before - the cross arm lock. I was actually saving this technique for someone else, someone I've never been able to beat, but I think you qualify as someone I can use it on," I craned my neck to get a glimpse of her face, and she gave me a particularly nasty glare, grating her teeth in pain. I shook my head, "look, I don't think you can break this lock. It's one of the hardest arm locks in the world to break, mainly because it puts all the strength and weight of my body against the strength of your arm. Unless your arm alone is strong enough to lift a hundred and twenty pounds clear off the ground, I doubt you can get out of this hold. Why don't you just do everyone a favor, swallow your pride, and just say I won this, alright? Please? I don't want to wind up breaking your arm."

She opened her mouth to retort, but another voice interrupted her, "he's right, Max."

Everyone's gaze swung to Iggy, who sat on the ground, trying to keep a small pile of fire going. His blind eyes caressed the room, "everyone's had enough for one day. Even you. Besides, these guys aren't that bad. Gazzy and I sat and ate with them, listened to them talk. They keep no secrets besides some personal stuff, just like us. We can trust them. So please, just give it a rest, will ya?"

"I'm with Iggy on this one," Gazzy unloaded a small bit of kindling, adding it to Iggy's flames, "let's just call this whole thing off and try to start over. No hard feelings."

Nudge fidgeted for a few seconds, then went to sit with Iggy and Gazzy, "I... I think we should at least give them a chance, Max. Please? Just a few nights? Then we'll call a meeting and see what we do next."

Angel merely stayed quiet, off to the side, close to Coal, leaning against a steel container as far as she could from a silently swearing Sickle, who had clearly been hoping for a better climax than what was happening. I caught Fang's gaze as Starrk released him from the arm lock, filled with just as much distaste as Max's, but I ignored it, turning my gaze back to Max, "well? Looks like you've been outvoted by most of your group," I loosened my grip slightly, "come on. Just let it slide. It couldn't hurt, could it?"

She shook with rage, breathing harshly, then slumped, "fine. We'll stay here, give it a try. But," she paused, her eyes set on me, "I will not, under any circumstance, just forget what happened. Watch your step, Blitz. One wrong move with my Flock, and you pay the price."

I nodded, then called out loud enough for my voice to echo all throughout the storage, "all in favor?"

Nearly all the hands of Winged Cross rose, and the ones that didn't were simply tentative, too nervous to really take much of a vote. I grinned, "it's decided then. Max and the others will stay here until further notice," I released my grip on Max, and we each got to our feet. As soon as we were both up, I tried to give a friendly smile, and offered my hand a third time. She glared at me, then reached out and clasped it, her grip strong enough to break a man's bones if applied right. We nodded, and I shouted out, "lights out everyone! We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow!"

Everyone moved off in different directions, scattering into the dark of the storage building, some into the containers, others merely on top or beside, but all of them going out of sight until only the Flock and Starrk remained. I turned to them, and gestured, "come on. You guys have a long day as well. In the meantime, let's get you settled in. And one last thing..." I took a deep breath, not quite sure how to word what was about to come out of my mouth, "sorry about all this. I... I know I can be hard to get along with. But I'll try to do my part to make this work. So please... could you at least work with me here? I'm going to need your help if you're going to be staying here."

They all glanced at each other, then, to my surprise, Max stepped forwards, offering her hand, "alright. We'll try. But no promises."

I smiled, and took her hand, giving a nice hard shake before turning and striding forwards into the darkness, the others close behind.


End file.
